Reflections during a solitary foggy walk

Grey miserable weather...an afternoon of doing nothing.   At the end of the day I need to move a bit and catch fresh air but I find no volunteers to join me.   That is fine, I'll go for a walk on my own. 

All bundled up with a my hat pulled down strongly and a big scarf wrapped around my cheeks.  The humidity in the air makes it bitter cold.  

The same street so often taken, the same decent along the same fields.  That is fine, I realise they are different each time.   Last week it was sunny and crisp, a few weeks ago it was slushy and wet and in December it was snowing.  

My thoughts get the chance to run freely.  I try to breath them out....out those stressy moments of the past professional week.  Out all discussions and doubts.  "It's going to be fine, we'll do fine"  I synchronise with my steps. 

Someone figured it was a good idea to dump vegetable garbage in the ditch.  Why oh why?  Fortunately I only see biodegradable things, but still...how many weeks and months will we find the left-overs of those cauliflower and oranges etc. Why oh why.  Which animals would pick them up first? I bet craws will start flying these around all over. 

A mole has popped up some new fresh piles of earth through the crispy layer of left-over snow.  Do moles not hibernate? Apparently not.  I should look that up when I'm back at home

I listen to my footsteps descending at a swift pace. How different they sound today compared to those same steps in the fresh snow before.  I hear the water flowing down in the ditch. 

The next village is hidden in the fog.  Unfortunately, so are the deer that I hope to spot on this solitary walk at dusk.  Too bad, I haven't seen any in a while. And it's been a few years since I spotted a fox near our village. Isn't that strange? 
As if the devil is involved, I see some fur down below in the ditch amidst the shrubs and trees.  When I approach a little more, it is a dead fox.  A sad view, his fur all soaked , his legs stiff.  I doubt that he died here from disease. I fear he was probably a car victim, hit on this deserted road and only possible to stumble into the side again to give up there. Poor thing. 

When I cross the river bridge, I observe the water automatically.  Like people at the sea observe unconsciously each time whether it is low tide or high tide,  we always check the water level in the river. This little stretch of water connecting 2 lakes managed by a power dam shows important fluctuating water levels, not only caused by the weather conditions of the previous days but additionally by the power dam management.  Today the water is running by wildly and broadly again. 

At the crossing I decide to talk the road lesser travelled and start jumping across the mud and start climbing up the hill.  The little tour will a bit longer than originally intended, but I feel like continuing another bit.  With the children at home, I profit getting my speed up a bit and I notice that I enjoy the effort. My thoughts slow down, my breathing is deep. I feel the cold air in my lungs. 

Climbing up again, I notice there is more snow left in the fields around me here. At a distance I hear voices on the RAVeL but there's no soul around closeby. 

I tuck my hands deeper in my pockets and regret having left my gloves at home. I'm at the furthest point of the loop I started to make, so I can only keep up my pace and start rejoicing the thought of coming home in the heat again and settle back in the sofa, ready for a nice drink and some appetizers.